In the Lyrics

  In the Lyrics

  Copyright ©2014 Nacole Stayton

  Nacole Stayton Publishing, LLC.

  Discover other titles by Nacole Stayton at www.nacolestayton.com

  Edited by Adept Edits

  Formatting by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats

  Cover Photography by Toski Covey Photography

  Cover Design by Perfect Pear Creative

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only licensed authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All music lyrics used in this book are written by Nacole Stayton.

  Warning: This book is intended for readers 17+ due to explicit language and sexual encounters.

  Also by Nacole Stayton

  The Upside of Letting Go

  A Graceful Mess

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  Epilogue

  In the Lyrics Playlist

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  To Danielle, for reminding me daily that music is the soul’s best therapy.

  I wanted to take a brief moment to THANK YOU. Yes, you, the person holding their Kindle, Nook, or paperback in their cute, little hands right now. Because without you, my words would merely be unread writing, scribbled on paper, but instead you give them life by inviting them into your home and hearts.

  I feel extremely lucky and humbled that you’ve taken a chance on one of my books. And although I may never top the charts or even sell a thousand copies, that’s okay by me, because I know why I write and it’s for no other reason than to touch lives. So as you prepare to take a journey into Colby and Hensley’s lives, know that I write for you, like a singer sings for his or her audience. You are my muse.

  I hope after reading this, you find that my book mattered and if it did, or even if it didn’t and you think it’s a giant hunk of garbage, I’d love to hear from you. Your songs of praise or words of criticism help me grow as an author. So I ask that you please leave a review on Amazon or Barnes and Noble. It doesn’t have to be long, but your words matter – just as much as the lyrics in a song.

  Hearts,

  Nacole

  “NO, YOU LISTEN to me, Son, and you listen good. Your mother and I have bitten our tongues for far too long. This here music, you think you can do that forever? You think singing at these podunk bars is going to pay your rent? You better take a real good look around this farm. This is where you belong. Working like a real man should, providing for his family, not on some rickety-ass stage trying to make a buck, never knowing where you’re going to lay your head at night.”

  Clenching my hands at my sides, I am doing everything in my power not to ram my fist into my father’s face. He knows what he is doing, and by my fuming facial expression, I’m sure he can tell it’s working.

  “Say what you want, Pops. I’ve made my mind up and I’ve already been accepted to a college near Nashville. At the end of the summer, I’m leaving, so you better get your ducks in a row and hire another farm hand. God knows you’ll need it.” My eyes dart to the half empty bottle in his hand. “Seeing how your drinking has increased.”

  He takes a step towards me, bottle in one hand and bridle in the other. The mare it belongs to is already in her stall. I can smell the liquor on his breath as he stands only inches away from my face. As he drops the bridle to the ground, a cloud of dust flies into the air from its impact. He doesn’t drop the bottle; the contents mean too much to him. The creaking sound of a door opening causes me to break eye contact with him. Turning my head slightly, I look towards the house just as Momma steps onto the porch. Her once-white apron is a dingy, rusty color, and the creases on her forehead tell me she knows what’s about to happen.

  “Look me in the eyes, Son, and tell me you don’t want this life.”

  My father’s eyes are filled with nothing but sadness and self-pity. I know he blames himself for the accident, and he attempts to drink away the anger he harbors from that day with cheap whiskey. But he is the reason I don’t want to live this life. The farm is falling apart, the workers hate him – hell, even I hate him. Staring into his eyes, eyes that used to be so gentle and full of life, I know for certain my decision is made, and I know it is for the best. I can’t – I won’t – sit here and watch everything our family has worked so hard to build fall apart. I wish I could take my mom with me, but she is as loyal as loyal can be, and she would never desert my father. Even at his worst, she stands by his side, which is something I cannot do any longer. I feel like this place, the farm, my father, have all been slowly suffocating me. Remembering my promise to my little brother that I would make him proud, I vowed to myself I would keep good on my end, and it’s a promise I intend to keep.

  “I don’t want this life. Hell, Pops, I can’t even believe you want to live this life. Look around – the crops are dying, we’ve slaughtered all the cows and have no more funds to buy new ones. Eddie is overworked and underpaid, the roof needs fixin’, and the tractor still isn’t running. I mean, come on, when are you going to face the facts and throw in the towel? You and I both know when Levi died, the loving family we once were and the ‘family’ business we ran died with him.”

  Without hesitation, my father brings his bottle up to his mouth and takes a long swig. He doesn’t say anything, and I can hear my mother gasp in the background, as my words not only sting him, but her as well. I knew that would push him over the edge, but I said it anyway. It was time someone had the balls to say it to his face. I watch as he takes a drink and swallows it. He lowers the bottle to the ground, careful not to waste a drop, then stands back up. His shoulders slouch due to his bad back and the alcohol running through his veins. When our eyes meet, I swear I am staring at someone other than my father. His are black, full of hate, and directed right at me.

  “You motherfucker!” he shouts as his hand flies up, and he sticks his callused index and middle fingers in the center of my chest. The force is enough to cause my body to sway. I plant my boots firmly on the ground, trying not to lose my balance. Looking over his shoulder, I see my momma throwing her apron off and running down the front steps barefoot, towards us.

  “Larry, you stop it right now!” she hollers as she nears, but he doesn’t listen. His fingers continue to press harder into my chest.

  The thin cloth of my navy shirt does nothing to cushion their pressure on my skin. He may be old, but he
is still stout. The years he’s spent hauling hay and herding cattle have kept him in shape, but I’m stronger and younger. Reaching up, I hastily grab his hand and push him away from me. One of his leather-covered feet kicks the bottle resting on the ground, and his eyes widen in horror. You would think it was the end of the world as we both watch it topple over and spill. Before I have time to raise my eyes from the ground, he charges at me, full force. Our bodies collide as I wrestle to gain the upper hand. He is fast though, and before I know it, his fist smashes into my jaw. I don’t feel my skin break, and I hope his impact doesn’t leave a mark. My mother cries in the background as his hand keeps up a steady line of blows to my face. This isn’t the first time this has happened; honestly, after Levi died, we all kind of lost it, but Pops really went off the deep end.

  Enough is enough. A jolt of adrenaline and blast of rage rush through me. I lean forward and grasp his body. As I am holding him and his arms in place, he tries to break from my embrace, but fails.

  From the corner of my eye I see Eddie, our farm hand, barreling towards us. “Now y’all both stop. Come on now.”

  Tightening my grip on my father, I hear Eddie shouting at us, but I don’t dare let go. Who knows if the old man has had enough, and I for sure don’t want another broken nose. Nobody wants to see a country singer up on stage with a busted up face.

  “Colby, come on, let him go, man.” Eddie’s pleas echo off the aluminum barn doors.

  This fight has been building up for a while. Well, at least since the last time we got into it, which was only a few weeks ago. It was when I first mentioned I applied for a transfer to another college for my sophomore year. I had control of the situation then and walked away without a scratch. Pops was too drunk to do any real damage, although he thought he was sober enough to kick my ass. He was sadly mistaken.

  Deciding the gravel below my back and the dirt that is stuck to my biceps from rolling around in the driveway isn’t comfortable anymore, I attempt to stand up. My hands are still holding him tightly around his chest, but he has stopped fighting back. I don’t know if that is a good sign or not. Eddie walks over to my momma and lowers his cowboy hat. Living in Texas my whole life, I understand this silent gesture. They have both been putting up with Pops and me fighting for far too long.

  I make it to my feet and plant them on the ground. Our faces are so close I can see tiny beads of sweat lingering above his upper lip.

  “You done?” I question him through clenched teeth as I prepare to unlock my hands and let him go. He doesn’t respond, but I let go anyway. Taking a small step away from him, I move my fingers up and down in a stretching motion in an attempt to loosen up my joints that are now sore from being clasped for so long.

  We are all standing in the middle of the driveway as the sun sets behind the meadow. The crickets and horses are the only things making any noise that is louder than our erratic breathing.

  “Now that’s enough, boys. Why don’t y’all get cleaned up and then come down for dinner? Eddie, make sure the lights are off in the stables and get changed too, please.” My mother gives her instructions before turning on her bare heels and heading back towards the house.

  No one else moves. He isn’t done, and Eddie and I both know it.

  I watch as my father turns towards my mother’s back. He wants to make sure she is far enough away before he does something stupid, again. I brace myself knowing he just can’t leave well enough alone. As soon as her first foot hits the bottom step he turns around in a hasty motion, but before his fist is even in the air, mine connects with the side of his face. He stumbles backwards and uses one hand to catch himself as he hits the gravel. The other he holds against his busted lip. Dark crimson blood escapes through the creases in his fingers.

  Eddie moves to stand in between us as my father starts to run his mouth again, “That was a cheap shot and you know it. If you’re planning on leaving at the summer’s end, why don’t you just get your shit and get out now?”

  He’s right. Nothing is stopping me. I’ve already made plans to room with someone. My college here contacted the campus there and found some dude named Dusty who needed a roommate. Even my bags have been packed for a while. The only thing that worries me about leaving is leaving my momma here with no one to fend for her when he goes on these drunken rants. Glancing over at Eddie, he nods. I know he knows what I am thinking, and if there’s anyone left in this world I trust, it’s him. He’s been like an older brother to me, even though he’s old enough to be my dad. Knowing he didn’t sign up to play referee for our family makes me sad. But I’m glad he’s here to help.

  “All right. I’ll go.” Leaning down, I kneel in front of my father so we are face to face. “But I swear to God, if you lay one finger on her, I will come back and I will bury you so far down in this earth no one will find you. And since no one will be missin’ you, it won’t really matter.” I pause to catch my breath, “You can drink yourself to death, you can lose this whole farm for all I care, but don’t you ever take your anger out on her. Do you hear me?”

  His lips part as the familiar stale smell of whiskey rolls off his tongue, “What, you think you call the shots around here? You think you’re famous, boy? You’re not shit, and you ain’t ever gonna be shit. So remember that when you’re driving up to Tennessee.”

  “I mean it, Larry. Don’t fucking touch her.” I don’t remember the last time I called my father “Dad.” If anything, the closest I’ll get is calling him “Pops.” He hasn’t acted like a father should for a while now, so why address him as one? Standing back up, I look at Eddie and then turn around and walk towards the house. As I approach I can hear my momma’s muffled sobs. It kills me to hear her cry, though that’s all she seems to do these days.

  “Momma, stop crying. I’ll be okay and one day I’ll be able to afford to buy you a one-way ticket away from here, away from that sorry ass man you call a husband.”

  “Now you know your daddy ain’t gonna let me go and you know darn well why I can’t leave this farm. His memory. That’s all we have left of Levi, you know that, Colby. Don’t make me choose because I’d much rather be living here, in my own personal hell, than move away and leave his memories behind.”

  My heart aches as her words drudge up feelings I’ve tried so hard to bury.

  “You can move, that don’t mean you’re forgetting about him, or love him any less. Just listen to me, once I get to Nashville things are going to change. I promise you that. Just have a little faith in me, okay?”

  She reaches her hand out to touch my swollen jawline. “I trust you, baby. Now go get cleaned up, and get ready for dinner. Whether you decide to leave tonight or not, you will get a full belly first.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I nod and walk up the wooden steps to the house, a place where I’ve been laying my head for twenty years, but not a home.

  AFTER DINNER, I loaded up my old pickup truck with a few bags and my most valued possession – my guitar, and then kissed my momma goodbye. The tears that fell from her face made my chest ache, but I know this is something I have to do. I made sure the horses were fed their evening feeding and that everything was set and ready for the morning, since Pops passed out on the couch after his last bite. Eddie could probably run this farm alone, if he ever had to, so I’m not worried about things too much. But nonetheless, he doesn’t deserve to have to do everything. After all he is hired help and this farm is my father’s. He inherited it from his father, and it will all be mine one day – that’s to say if it doesn’t go under before then.

  Climbing into my truck, I turn on my headlights and take one last look around the farm before heading towards the highway. Rolling down the windows, I feel like I can finally breathe for the first time in a long, long while.

  “IF THIS DAMN song plays on the radio again, I swear I’m going to scream.” I cringe as my hands grip the steering wheel.

  “Oh hush, girl. This is my jam!” Dusty fumbles with the knob, and turns up the volume. I instantane
ously feel bile rising in my throat. This song royally sucks. Just listening to the lyrics irks me, but leave it to my Dusty to love a song about broken-hearted cowboys. The thought alone makes me laugh out loud.

  “Come on, girl, live a little. Let that guard down and let some love in for once,” he says while making an incredibly stupid face and batting his long eyelashes while bobbing his head to the tune.

  “Love’s for losers,” I snicker under my breath.

  “Hell, even losers need love, baby girl. But seriously, maybe, just maybe, you’ll meet your prince charming tonight. I sure hope I do.” He wiggles his eyebrows as we both burst out laughing.

  “You’re a complete mess, Dusty, but that is why I loooove you.” He knows he is the only man other than my daddy who’s ever heard those words, and most likely ever will.

  Ignoring the song on the radio, my mind roams as I hold my hand out the driver’s side window and allow the summer sun to beat down on it. Love’s for losers. It’s not that I don’t like the idea of liking someone, and I can’t lie and say I’ve never entertained the thought of being in a relationship, but that is where I draw the line, at a thought. I can’t ever allow myself to lose focus, and if I’m using that energy crushing on a boy, I might miss my chance to get out of this God-forsaken town. That’s my dream, and there is no way in hell I’m letting some fling, crush, or whatever, get in the way of making it come true.

  “I know you meant to add the word hot to that sentence, but because you’re so damn cute, I’ll let it slide.” He winks as he rolls his window down and welcomes the breeze in with open arms.

  Dusty and I have been best friends since as long as I can remember. I was the poor girl growing up in a town full of snobs. I didn’t have a pot to piss in, and he was the resident gay, so our matching social statuses as outcasts grounded us and allowed for a friendship to bloom. Since then we have been inseparable, doing mostly everything together, including studying, singing, and sleeping.